


no i ain’t afraid of a little pain

by takesguts



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: BDSM, Blow Jobs, Crossdressing Kink, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, Fucking Machines, M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Toys, Spit Kink, Verbal Humiliation, beauty papers, boys in lingerie, inspired by beauty papers shoot, prompt fills, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:47:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27098311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takesguts/pseuds/takesguts
Summary: Prompt Fill:1. They try to break niall’s orgasm count4. BDSM - spanking, fuck machine, bondage and breathplay.
Relationships: Niall Horan/Harry Styles, Niall Horan/Liam Payne (mentioned) Niall Horan/Liam Payne/Harry Styles (mentioned)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	no i ain’t afraid of a little pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [olfinbo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/olfinbo/gifts).



There’s a half empty bottle of wine on the counter, and Harry is sitting next to it; one leg dangling off the edge, the other bent and pulled close to his chest. the arm holding his wine glass is curled around his knee while he scrolls through his phone. 

  
  
  


He is wearing fishnet stockings and a pair of shiny black shorts, white ankle socks with a lace trim that seem to be paired with a white blouse. Complete with black heels. Niall’s mouth goes dry. 

  
  


“Er, good evening,” he says, intelligently, gaze greedily checking out his boyfriend, hand clutching uselessly at his keys.  _ Good evening _ , he thinks helplessly,  _ what the feck?  _

  
  


Without looking up from his phone, Harry motions with his wine glass toward the hall, essentially shooing the blonde away, “Bedroom, please, Niall. Change into the outfit I laid out for you and kneel on the bed, facing the door.” 

  
  
  


Almost immediately Niall's balls begin to ache, swelling with the hardening of his cock. Their friends' jokes about Niall being whipped are a gross understatement; his dedication to his boyfriend and his whims are practically Pavlovian, nearly worshipful. For a moment he’s overwhelmed by it, how Harry can turn him on with just a simple, disinterested command and it’s only then his boyfriends gaze cuts to him, a little sharply. 

  
  
  


“Well?” He goads, raising an eyebrow, “Go now, Niall. Thank you.” 

  
  
  


It’s clearly a dismissal, and Niall knows not to test the impatience in Harry’s tone, turning to obey and only pausing to hang his keys on the hook just outside their kitchen. 

  
  
  


Upon reaching their bedroom, Niall discovers that Harry has  _ clearly _ been busy. Briefly, he panics, wondering if somehow he’s forgotten their anniversary, or something important, but no. There’s no way. He had booked a getaway house in Vermont for their anniversary, having found the ring -  _ a ring  _ \- one afternoon while cleaning their closet. He doesn’t know for sure, but he  _ thinks _ , he thinks that may be  _ his  _ gift and he had wanted to be prepared. Still, their room is dimly lit with warm scented candles and a covered lampshade. Their bedsheets have been swapped for ones dark and silky, ones he has never seen before. 

  
  
  


And as it turns out, the so-called  _ outfit _ Harry has laid out for him can barely be described that at all. It’s a sheer white teddy and a pair of matching panties. His heart rate spikes as he approaches the bed, beginning to clumsily strip out of his work clothes. He dresses himself per Harry’s request without any further concerns or questioning. Lingerie - and any wearing thereof - tends to be more of Harry’s kink than Nialls. He’s got better taste, anyhow. 

  
  
  
  


Once he’s changed, Niall kneels in the center of the bed, facing the door as asked. He shuffles uncertainly a bit, not sure if his boyfriend wanted him just on his knees, or hands and knees,  _ or  _ face down on his knees, but he doesn’t have too long to dwell before the brunet is standing in the doorway of their room, hip cocked with his wine still in hand. 

  
  
  


“Hands in your lap,” he commands, followed by a pointed sip from his glass. Grateful for the clarification, Niall obeys. 

  
  
  


“You look beautiful,” Harry says sincerely, and a flush makes its way across Niall's cheeks and chest. Harry always does this; is so open and intense when Niall feels the most vulnerable. It was a part of his boyfriend that took some time getting used to. That still takes him off guard every so often. “What do you say when someone gives you a compliment?” 

  
  
  


“Thank you.” 

  
  
  


“And me?” Harry prompts, taking another sip and another step closer to the bed, “do I look beautiful?” 

  
  
  


“Always,” Niall answers reverently, barely letting his boyfriend finish the question. He doesn’t even need to consider it - black fishnets or a pig onesie - Harry  _ is  _ always beautiful. Those  _ thighs  _

  
  
  


Beaming, Harry moves to the side of the bed and sets his wine down on the nightstand, “thank you, Niall. What’s your safe word?” 

  
  
  


_ Oh,  _ Niall thinks and though he kind of expected,  _ it’s that kind of play _ . 

  
  
  


“Rumors.” 

  
  
  


“Very good, and your colour?” 

  
  
  


“Green.” 

  
  
  


“Let’s begin.” 

  
  
  


Grabbing the entertainment centers remote, Harry clicks on the stereo;  _ Piece of my Heart  _ by Janis Joplin starts playing through the speakers which Harry swears is one of the top five sexiest songs of all time. He moves toward the middle of the room and fixes Niall a  _ I mean business  _ look. 

  
  
  


“Keep your eyes on me,” Harry orders, “and no touching your cock. Or stimulating yourself in any other way, come to think of it.” 

  
  
  


Hips swaying slowly, a little bit seductively even, Harry gives a twirl, runs his hands through his hair and tugs gently. He’s not very graceful when it comes to dancing, not that Niall is all that much better, but there is a reckless silliness that Niall can throw into it that his boyfriend just doesn’t muster the same way. There’s nothing silly about Harry now, though Niall isn’t sure the way Harry is moving could really be considered  _ dancing _ , but more of a solo bump and grind. 

  
  
  


Pulling his blouse until it’s untucked, Harry sways languidly, undoing the buttons one by one Niall assumes despite not being able to see. When he turns around again he drops the shirt off to the side, and reaches for his fly. 

  
  
  


Nialls hard, of course he is, but he can’t help the giggle that escapes him as Harry pulls the shorts down, bending over a bit obscenely while giving a cheeky grin and wink. Stepping out of the material, he’s left in only the fishnets and socks, heels, and a pair of black panties. Whining involuntarily, Niall rocks forward almost helplessly, wanting to be closer. Beautiful comes nowhere close to describing his Harry; he’s ethereal. 

  
  
  


“No touching,” Harry says again, raising an eyebrow, but he’s still smiling as he dances back toward the mattress. Niall doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to, so enthralled with Harry and his body and his goofy grin and pseudo strip tease and the way his legs look in the tights; solid and thick and gorgeous. 

  
  
  


By the time the song ends, Harry’s on his own knees on the bed in front of the blonde, crooning,  _ you know you’ve got it, if it makes you feel good _ . Niall wouldn’t be surprised if Harry timed his last couple of moves perfectly, perhaps even practiced it by himself and the thought makes him huff out a strained laugh. 

  
  
  


Large hands reach out and cup Niall's cheeks, thumb brushing against his bottom lip. 

  
  
  


“My boy,” he murmurs, gazing intently, “my baby.” 

  
  
  


Breath catching, Nialls eyelashes flutter, nearly closing as his cheeks heat up again. 

  
  
  


Keeping his thumbs close to Niall's mouth, Harry leans in to give him the most bone melting kiss that makes his nipples harden against the silk of the teddy. His mouth is hot and wet, kissing him so deep and thorough; keeping his face still and causing a shiver to run across Nialls taint, making him squirm. 

  
  
  


“What’s your colour, baby?” He asks, barely parting their kiss. 

  
  
  


“Green,” Niall pants as Harry licks at his bottom lip, and then the top, saliva pooling at the corners of their mouths and slicking their chins. Squeezing his thighs together, the blonde laps at the spit being shared between their mouths hungrily, blood rushing at the wet smacking sounds it makes. 

  
  
  


When Harry pulls back there’s a string of saliva that pulls and snaps between them, and Harry’s lips are so red and swollen. Niall can only imagine what his own look like. 

  
  
  


Harry is still grinning when he removes one of his hands before abruptly smacking Niall across the face, making him gasp. 

  
  
  


“Stick out your tongue,” he demands, and Niall only has a moment to follow the direction before his boyfriend is removing his other hand and smacking him across that cheek as well. “Good boy.” 

  
  
  


Heart racing, his eyes well up at the sting, but his dick is rock hard in his panties, barely peeking out the top. Fuck. Fuck he doesn’t know what he did, or what this is, but Niall is in love all over again. Harry always knows what he wants, what he needs. It’s been so long since they’ve played this in depth, both of their schedules somehow having morphed into almost opposite with Harry’s new course load and Nialls footie practice. They always seem to just be missing each other nowadays. 

  
  
  
  


Harry slaps him a few more times, praising him after each hit, laughing as he grabs his boyfriends tongue and gently pulls his face down to his crotch. He raises up further on his knees and let’s go of Niall's tongue to curl a hand around the back of his skull. 

  
  
  


“Put your mouth on my cock,” he says, voice low and sticky, “don’t use your hands” Harry himself doesn’t make any effort to pull down his stockings or underwear so Niall assumes he wants to watch him try. They both know he won’t be able to, but the blonde figures that must be the point. Desperate and cock hungry is one of Harry’s favorite looks on Niall. 

  
  
  
  


Never one to disappoint, Niall is sure to really play up his performance- if it can even be called that, considering when it comes to his boyfriend desperate and cock hungry is a lifestyle. Still, he gets messy with it, whines and pleads while he laps at Harry’s shaft through the panties, at his wet tip that is most certainly pushing out the top of the waistband. 

  
  
  
  


“God,” he chokes, wringing his fingers together tightly behind his back, thighs slipping out further as they ache under the strain of the uncomfortable way he’s bent over, “Harry your cock.” 

  
  
  


“Hmm,” Harry hums, a little condescendingly, “s’big enough for you, baby?” 

  
  
  
  


Nodding eagerly, Niall places hungry little kisses all the way down to his balls, curling his tongue under them and sucking shortly. It is big, so much bigger then Nialls, long and thick and fucking perfect with the way it fills him. Harry only needs one hand to jerk them off together, always coos at how small and pretty Niall is, how everything about him fits with Harry so nicely. 

  
  
  


“Yeah? Is it bigger than Liams?” 

  
  
  
  


Suddenly it clicks; all of it. The outfits, the candles, the dancing. The whole production his boyfriend orchestrated; all because of their neighbor, Liam Payne. They’re on the same footie team, and after a few play dates between the three of them, Niall was given permission to hook up with the other brunet provided it never interferes or takes the place of plans or time with Harry. However, recently there hasn’t been any plans, or a whole lot of time with Harry. But there has been plenty of time with Liam. 

  
  
  


More times than he can count, Harry has come home as Niall is crawling into bed, freshly fucked and a little cum drunk from his time at Liam's flat. Harry will take one look at him and smirk, ask him questions about how it was, if Liam made him feel good, if his baby had fun. Sometimes he will jerk off while he asks, not exactly including Niall aside from finishing all over whatever part of his boyfriends body he feels like that night. Other times he will simply get into bed and kiss Niall goodnight. 

  
  
  
  


Frantically, he tries to think back on those instances; he swears Harry never seemed particularly  _ bothered.  _ This isn’t even the longest lasting arrangement they have had before. Up until two months ago, around when Liam moved in, they had been seeing Louis Tomilson almost exclusively for nearly eight months. While that relationship had included the three of them more frequently then just two, Niall had figured when Harry encouraged him to continue seeing Liam on his own accord that he  _ wanted  _ him to do so. 

  
  
  
  


Harry clears his throat pointedly and Niall realizes he’s been quiet for too long. Blushing, he shakes his head, peering up at his boyfriend with big eyes and what he hopes is a pitiful expression. 

  
  
  


“No, no,” he assures quickly, reaching out to soothe, but then catching himself, realizing he hasn’t been given permission to touch with his hands. Harry looks pleased and Niall's blood lights up, “of course not, no one is like you, promise.” 

  
  
  


“No one is like me,  _ what, _ ” Harry prompts. 

  
  


“No one is as big as you, Harry.” 

  
  
  


Long fingers curl through his hair and yank him forward again; without direction, Niall begins fervently sucking at the tip of Harry’s cock through the fabrics in the way, licking with a fat tongue at the hot taste of precome. 

  
  
  


“Damn,” Harry breathes before tanking Niall's head back; it constricts his airway just a bit, forces him to try and take large gulps of air through his mouth. Letting go of his hair, Harry slaps him across the face again, swearing at the way Niall whines in response, “damn, you’re such a cute little slut. I just want to fucking -“ 

  
  
  


He smacks Niall once more, and while he never does it to hurt or harm - Niall trusts and loves his boyfriend completely - his face is beginning to feel a bit sore. He hopes he still has some foundation. He would rather not have to explain any sort of….possible bruising to classmates or teammates. 

  
  
  
  


A bit frantically, Harry begins shoving the waistband of the stockings and underwear down with his free hand. As soon as he’s got the fabric tucked beneath his balls both hands are in Niall's hair, shoving his head down again. 

  
  
  
  


“Open up babes,” he murmurs, letting out a rough breath as the blonde suckles on the tip of his now exposed cock, tongue laving lovingly. 

  
  
  
  


From there, Niall closes his eyes, giving a happy little sound and he slides his mouth down his boyfriend's dick, until he hits the back of his throat. Taking a slow breath through his nose, only mildly gagging at the initial feeling, he opens his throat, sliding Harry even deeper. 

  
  
  


“Ahh, good boy,” Harry praises, fucking his throat leisurely, “that feels really good, love.” 

  
  
  


Satisfaction licks at Nialls spine, gooey and sweet and warm. It took so, so long for him to work past his gag reflex; took so many disappointing and frustrating encounters where he felt like he might not ever be able to please Harry the same way Harry could please him. A lot of patience and communication was involved (and a lot of facials), but they got there eventually. Practice makes perfect, and all. 

  
  
  


It seems like ages that he goes down on Harry; slow and wet and thorough, just happy to take it while his boyfriend leisurely fucks his throat. Blinking his eyes open slowly, he peers up at his lover, searching for praise. Without words, Harry steps back just enough so Niall can barely reach his cock before he leans down slightly to spit quick and dirty in his mouth. 

  
  
  
  


Before Niall can process it, Harry is dragging him back onto his prick, until his cockhead is glancing off the very back of his throat. He gags hard, and mildly panics, but Harry holds his head down with one hand while the other strokes soothingly at the back of his neck. 

  
  
  
  


“That’s it,” he croons, “just like that, Niall. You’re lovely; doing so well, pet.” 

  
  
  
  


It’s taken him a while to get the hang of being able to handle Harry’s entire cock, and any surprise with it often takes a moment of adjustment. Niall would never say it to another living person, probably, but it’s one of his most favorite accomplishments. Being a gay man with a horrible gag reflex hadn’t been the easiest experience, but Harry had been nothing but patient. And also his own version of kind. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Love,” Harry murmurs during a particularly filthy slurp, “how many times have you come this week without me?” 

  
  
  
  


The question draws Niall up blank; he has no idea. He doesn’t exactly keep track of his orgasms, unless somebody is keeping track for him, and the thing with Liam is so casual he’s never even considered it. 

  
  
  
  


“Mmmff,” he gurgles uncertainly, making a show of tilting his head back even further to try and take his prick  _ really  _ deep. His throat seizes instantly, causing an awful retching sound that he knows his man loves. 

  
  
  


“Don’t avoid the question, Niall,” Harry laughs, pinching his cheeks, “how many?” He follows his inquiry by slowly pulling Niall off his prick by the grip on his face. 

  
  
  
  


“Seven,” he admits quietly, holding Harry’s gaze. 

  
  
  
  


Clicking his tongue, Harry gives him a slightly awful grin, looking so handsome and devastating all at once. 

  
  
  
  


“That’s a big number baby,” his partner comments, rubbing a thumb back and forth on his bottom lip, “we’ve only managed four orgasms out of you in a night.” 

  
  
  
  


Confused, the blonde draws back a little, furrowing his eyebrows. Harry had asked how many times he came this  _ week  _ without him, not in a day, what was he on about? 

  
  
  
  


“Erm,” he mumbles, licking softly at the pad of his boyfriend's thumb, “what..”

  
  
  
  
  
  


“Seeing as how we have barely had any time together,” Harry continues, as if Niall hadn’t even spoken, “I think it’s best we make up for all our lost time when we can. Do you agree?”

  
  
  
  


The simplicity in Harry’s tone suggests that he’d  _ better  _ agree, if he knew what was good for him, so Niall nods eagerly. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Perfect, pet,” Harry praises, beaming, “so I think eight orgasms tonight will suffice, yes? One for every one you’ve had without me, plus one for efficiency, yeah?” 

  
  
  
  


Balking, Niall scrambles backward a bit awkwardly, feeling clumsy in his lingerie, “what?” 

  
  
  
  


“I got you a special gift for this, I believe you’ll love it,” Harry explains, extracting himself to make his way over to their walk in closet, “I can’t help but spoil you, even when you’ve been the most naughty.”

  
  
  
  


Something gross and awful twists in Niall’s tummy, making him squirm and scratch at his thighs. Harry’s ass looks amazing in his get up; he’s such a vision to look at, so much lovelier in his lingerie than Niall. He’s got a feeling about what this gift is; something they’d spoken about one night, post orgasms and on the cusp of sleep. It’d been Niall who had brought it up, mentioning awkwardly with a chuckle that he’d stumbled across it in a porno he had been watching, but even then he’d known it’s something he’d never spend money on himself due to its impracticality. 

  
  
  
  
  


Harry, however, occasionally loves to frivolously spend and spoil. 

  
  
  
  
  


Which is why, when Harry carries out the sleek, expensive looking fucking machine, Niall shudders so hard he feels it across his taint, goosebumps rising on his skin, hardening his nipples. 

  
  
  
  


Grinning, full of smug and smirk, his lover returns to the bed, setting the machine beside them, “what do you think, baby? Wanna give it a go? Give me your colour baby, please.” 

  
  
  
  


It’s something he has fantasized about, most definitely. Post coital, snuggled up against Harry in bed, confessing with just a bit of humiliation how he’d love to see just how much he could take, how far he could go, even when he wasn’t sure he could take anymore. How a fucking machine would be perfect for that, because there’s no sensitively, no time limit or personal connection to speed things along. At the time, Harry had just chuckled sleepily and pressed a sloppy kiss to his forehead, dismissing his embarrassment just before they both passed out. For awhile, Niall had thought maybe he maybe even dreamed the whole exchange but. Apparently not. 

  
  
  
  
  


“How much did that cost?” The blonde blurts instead, heart racing. 

  
  
  
  


Chuckling, Harry runs a hand over it, jerking the fake attached cock off leisurely. It’s - it’s awful how Niall whimpers at that, like his own cock his being touched, because it’s not. Harry hasn’t touched him this entire time. 

  
  
  
  


“Don’t you worry about that,” his lover admonishes playfully, waggling his eyebrows, “I just need to know your colour, baby, and then we can get started.” 

  
  
  
  
  


With a hammering pulse, Niall crawls forward, close enough to get his hand on the - fuck, it has to be at least ten inches - toy, hand joining Harry’s in stroking it as if it were real. There’s no give to it, no sense of warmth and consideration. This will take him like nothing else and no one else ever has before, no matter how rough they’ve gotten, the things they’ve experimented with. 

  
  
  
  


“Green,” Niall says breathlessly, wetting his lips before leaning in to lick at Harry’s mouth pathetically, in the way he knows Harry adores, “s’so green, Harry, please.”

  
  
  
  


“Please, what?” Harry taunts lovingly, maneuvering Niall until he is on his back, feet flat on the mattress with his knees bent and legs spread. 

  
  
  
  


“Please just. Please.” 

  
  
  
  


Chuckling again, Harry reaches for the lube on their nightstand, clicking it open. It’s one of the XL bottles, because Harry likes to use it a lot. Which is exactly what he does when he shoves Niall’s panties out of the way, squeezing an obscene amount of lube down and in his crack before wiggling two fingers in, stroking at his hole. 

  
  
  
  


“Please touch you here,” Harry simpers mockingly, “please make me feel good some more, even though I’ve had plenty without you? I’m just that much of a slag?” 

  
  
  
  


Immediately, Niall’s cheeks flame; hot with blood and embarrassment, but he can’t even manage to get out a sound of protest. He  _ is  _ such a slag, isn’t he? Desperate for cock; enough so that he takes it from someone else when his boyfriend can’t give it. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Yessss,” he hisses as the other lad shoves a third finger in, “yes, I’ma slag, yes.” 

  
  
  
  
  


“I would love to say you’re a good boy,” Harry comments kindly, fingering him with cruel precision, “but I’d not know that this week, hm? Or recently?” 

  
  
  
  


“Harry!”

  
  
  
  


Pouting playfully, Harry wiggles his fingers against his prostate, clearly pleased with himself, “that’s okay though, love. Needy thing like you just needs as much as he can get. Never mind, as much as you can take. You’ll take everything given to you.” 

  
  
  
  


Mouth parting, Niall means to say something in response, honestly he does but Harry is petting across his prostate so strong and surely that the blonde can nearly feel his eyes cross. 

  
  
  
  
  


“Won’t you,” his boyfriend coaxes after a moment of Niall’s pleasured silence, “won’t you take everything that’s given to you?” 

  
  
  
  


“Yes!” Niall cries, nodding again, a bit more frantically, “yes, yes, anything. I’ll take anything.”

  
  
  
  


“Okay then, love,” Harry says happily, reaching for the line again, “let’s get started.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Yaknow me, always w the 2-3 part-ers. 
> 
> Been having a biiiiiit of a rough time lately. Would loooove to find someone to write me some lovely Lirry fic. 
> 
> Broadcasting the universe: plz halp


End file.
